Help...I can't breathe...

I think this is just natural selection at its sharpest. Then again, I'm kind of a bitch.

It's been in the Times' most emailed articles section for two days, and I saw a segment on it this morning on the Today Show, where Meredith Vieira talked about how she used to make herself hyperventilate to get a rush. Really, Meredith? Appropriate much?

Kids are fucking dumb.

Oops.

How to screw yourself over at your first building tenants' association meeting? When introducing yourself as the new kid in school (most people have been here for years), self-identify as an attorney. After dispelling their belief that I was a college student, they now want me to join the board, be a liaison to the management company, and solve all of their problems.

Yeah. right.

Monday Musings

Season 6 of 24 is pretty much turning out to be season 2 redux. Except season 2 was better. The kiss in the dark hallways of CTU? Tony and Michelle were hotter. Invoking the 25th Amendment to take out President Palmer? Just a different President Palmer. The only thing we're missing is Kim on the run from a cougar. Maybe Josh will get on that. Ugh. Oh well, still one of my faves even if they're starting to recycle.

Boss #1 sat me down to tell me how he's giving me even more responsibility for a lot of cases, and he wants me to mentally understand the amount of trust he's putting in me and that I will be the final eyes for a lot of discovery material that we have to get in and out. This time, instead of being happy and confident that they trust my abilities, I felt slightly terrified and annoyed. I ask tons of questions when needed, but I still feel like I don't know what I'm doing a lot of the time, and it's their job to TRAIN me, right? There's been some talk about me second-chairing a few trials so I can start handling some on my own, but I don't know when that's gonna happen. All I can say is, with this amount of "responsibility", at the six month mark, it'll be time to reassess the salary situation. I'm an attorney. I shouldn't have to worry the way I do about living paycheck to paycheck.

I. am. tired.

At least I don't have homework to do today.

Well, the being drunk at 3am thing that I didn't want to happen? Happened. The boys and I ended up at Russian Samavor drinking fruit flavored iced vodka (note: "mango root" does not mean "mango") until the boys' preoccupation with almost lighting things on fire got out of hand. Two financial wizards and a screenwriter totally enthralled by a candle. Priceless.

Anyway. Might as well finish cleaning out the DVR, bake some lemon chicken and sliced potatoes (yum), and hit the sack early. Considering I spent close to my weekly frills allowance on vodka last night, there will be no drinking until at least Friday.

The awesomeness of my friends...

is unparalleled. But of course, literally all of my girlfriends are out of town this weekend. One of today's smile-inducing emails:

To: bestest college roomie/lawyer
From: harmless
Subject: Greetings
Date: March 23, 2007

Saying hi. Are you going to have to work all weekend again? Want to catch a flick or go shopping (I need a spring work-type coat) or do something tomorrow?

Write. back.

To: harmless
From: bestest college roomie/lawyer
Subject: re: Greetings
Date: March 23, 2007

no, but i'm going home! who are you? are we friends? what? i haven't seen you in WEEKS. i can't deal. we need to make more of an effort. stop fainting.

kc

p.s. i need a spring work-type coat too!

To: bestest college roomie/lawyer
From: harmless
Subject: re: Greetings
Date: March 23, 2007

Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

(me. crying.)

is it nyc? why do i feel like i've retreated inward? is it the daily grind?


And my guy friends, at least the ones here, while great goofy buddies, aren't the best choices for one-on-one meaningful conversations. Unless it's 3am and we're drunk. But I don't feel like doing that. So. I think I'm gonna wander the city by myself tomorrow. Gotta get out of the apartment. Where should I go? What should I do? I used to adore going to movies by myself - I felt decadent and wistful. But here I might feel kind of pathetic. Book stores? Cafes? I would need a book in a cafe. Why do characters in NYC-set tv shows, aside from being preternaturally beautiful, always appear to have the city at their feet? No crowds, no garbage, just bright colors and light. (Forgive me. I just watched Six Degrees - yes, it's back. Hope Davis is lovely. Bridget Moynahan is skeletal.)

Wait a minute. High of 48 degrees tomorrow? Snow on Sunday? Happy spring, indeed.

Sad.

I'm so sad about Elizabeth Edwards. On the one hand, I'm glad John Edwards is still running, because I think he'd be a great prez, but on the other hand, there is going to be so much politicizing of the cancer and how it will affect him as president, etc.

At least she has excellent health care....

12 days

before my first loan payments are due. Three statements are sitting on my desk. I know people don't usually throw their numbers out there, but I'm not most people, and I don't care how sorry you feel for me after reading this, so here goes:

$113/month Perkins loan from law school
$125/month Perkins loan from undergrad
$585/month private loans from law school (!!!)
$335/month federal loans from law school (starting in July when my deferment runs out)

$1158/month. Um, there is NO WAY IN HELL this is possible. I've know this was coming for three years. I estimated the calculations for three years. I'm not ready for it. I'm thrifty, but not that thrifty. I will pay the private loans because of their bloodsucking 9% interest rate and maybe one of the Perkins loans. The others - simply gonna have to be put into forbearance.

Ouch. Heartburn.

I'll french kiss anyone who can beat these totals.

Lil bit scared.

I have two days of depositions coming up. There are a total of five parties in the case. My boss seems to think I know everything there is to know about depositions at this point since I've taken ...three of them.

Eeeek.

I already know there's going to be a discovery issue tomorrow with one of the opponents, who sounds very nice on the phone, and I'm going to have to get really tough on the record and embrace my inner bitch. As a young woman, that's hard for me.

On another note, we've been in Iraq for four years. Four years! Longer than we were in WWII. And the end is nowhere in sight.

Time for 24. Jack will cheer me up.

(Actually, after watching, Jack needs more cheering up than usual. And that's saying a lot. Oof.)

Would you want to know?

I rarely ready long NY Times articles anymore, but this will capture you from the first few sentences. If I needed another reason to stop bitching and complaining, this is it.

Dear Jennifer Convertibles,

I realize that you employ high school dropouts with the IQs of gnats as your delivery people. But when one such delivery guy BREAKS THE LOCK ON MY FRONT DOOR in order to come in and out, and then leaves before I realize what he's done, I'm gonna have a problem with that. And then, when I call your store, and yell and scream and beg and plead for someone to come fix it because I CAN'T CLOSE THE DOOR SINCE THE DEADBOLT HAS BEEN YANKED ALL THE WAY OUT AND IS STUCK, and you tell me nothing can happen until Monday, I'm going to start crying. And spew through the tears that I'm a lawyer and won't put up with this. (Yeah, that went over well. Saying you're a lawyer while crying isn't very threatening.)

Luckily for you, my super, who at first said it wasn't his job to fix something that delivery men broke (wtf?! he's the SUPER and I was gonna pay him extra!) had a change of heart because I "live alone and don't have anyone to help me" (thanks, Mr. Super, for reminding me) installed a brand new lock in the door, costing me $100 in cash, $50 of which were for his trouble on a Saturday. Unfortunately for me, the super couldn't give me a receipt so when I call you on Monday and threaten and bitch and all of that, you WILL take off at least $100 from my bill without any problems.

Sigh. It's always fucking something.

The verdict on March: still a lion.

The weatherman just said, "If you don't have to leave the house, stay where you are."

Who am I to disobey?

I just can't do the Friday night meet at 10pm thing. After work drinks, yes. But when I'm already home after a hellish freezing wet commute and in my pajamas? No. Tomorrow is another day, and friend of mine will be in town, so I'm sure I'll make it out then.

That is, if I can force myself off my new dark brown buttery leather sofabed that arrives in the morning! (Another reason to stay in tonight - it's coming between 8 and noon.)

What's up, doc?

Is this week over yet?

Clearly I'm having some exhaustion issues. I've been taking it easy the past few days, other than a minor crying episode on the phone with my mother over my nemesis (money), but went back to the gym today. I felt ok, but now I just want to go to bed.

I know I should get a check-up. Maybe I'm anemic or something. Vegetarians often are. The problem is finding a doctor. New insurance + new city + little time = a lot of work to find a good primary care physician. But, I know, of all the things to spend my time on, this is super important.

I'm supposed to go out tomorrow night to celebrate a friend getting his master's degree. I'm gonna have to rally. I can feel it. Maybe some JT will help.

On a completely different note, and only because I just saw the preview for the tenth time, I really want to see Reign Over Me when it comes out next week. It looks powerful and heartwarming and awesome.

Update:

Grey's watchers, are we supposed to feel sorry for/empathize with/do anything other than roll our eyes at Callie, who, on top of making an orthopedic surgeon's salary, apparently comes from family money and is ashamed to tell her husband? Shut up, show.

Starting the week off with a Bang.

Or, rather, a boom.

I fainted on the subway this morning. Yep. I made my usual dash from the gym to the subway (and looking back now, my workout was damn sluggish), entered the packed train car, gripped the railing, and after a few minutes I started to feel VERY warm. Hot. Stifling. Suddenly the darkness washed over me, but I thought it would pass quickly. The next thing I knew I was on the floor and people were helping me up and asking me if I wanted to go to the hospital.

I couldn't have been out for more than a few seconds, but it was pretty scary. And embarrassing. A nice woman got off the train with me at the next stop and got me some juice, and then rode with me the rest of the way to my stop to go to work. I was not going to the hospital. (Thank god I didn't have to be in court.)

I felt better after breakfast and coffee at work (which is usually where I have breakfast and coffee when I gym it in the morning). I was even able to accomplish a fair amount of work considering how lethargic I felt all day. So I'm not sure what's going on. I've always hated eating before running in the early morning (I cramp easily without enough digestion time - too much info?) but I can't be fainting on the subway. Not cool.

Oh, and while I woke up to running water back on, it's off again tonight because they are fixing the second of two broken pipes. I went and asked the ConEd dude while walking the pup a little while ago and he said it will be back on for good tonight or during the middle of the night and it was because of the drastic temperature extremes over the past week. 0 to 50 degrees in 24 hours will cause pipes to burst. Can I blame George Bush? Too late, I already am.

I love NYC.

However, I do not love when a water main break shuts off the water to my building. Grr. I went and bought jugs of water, and will shower at the gym in the morning anyway, but still. Really annoying. I see ConEd working on it down the block, so hopefully it will be fixed tonight.

I did about three hours of work today. That will have to do. I also took pictures of the new kid. I can't very well post a picture of her and give short shrift to the pup, so here they are.

This is why my life is boring.

I turned down an invite tonight to go out in the east village with some friends. I went out on Thursday after work and had a blast, so I think turning down tonight is ok. I'm exhausted. I ran 7 miles, cleaned the apartment, went out and about for a while, and am pooped. Then again, it is a Saturday night, it's 8pm, and I'm in my pajamas deciding what to watch. Hmm.

But! I also adopted a cat today. She's a two year old sweetie, whose name I haven't decided on. She's a calico with some tabby in the mix, and she and the pup have been eying each other with interest and no snarls. I think they'll be the best of friends. See, I couldn't leave the new kid alone til 2am on her first night.

I also really really really need to do work tomorrow for a trial starting on Tuesday that I literally know nothing about yet.

Babel, babble, blah, blah, blah

Can someone please tell me why Babel is profound? Forget the awards - why is it watchable? I feel the same way I felt about Crash - it's a heavy handed "message" movie. We're all different, but we're all the same. We need to try to understand each other better.

Maybe I hate these movies because I grew up in an ultra-liberal household full of discussion about race, class, nationality, languages, etc. But even aside from the "message" of the movie, I cannot believe was nominated for and won any Oscars. Pace = molasses. Acting = overacting. Plot = well, none really. At least nothing cohesive or not worthy of eye-rolling. I don't care about any characters other than the kids who get lost in the desert and the boy who gets shot, and only because they're kids. Sorry for any spoiling, but since it'll be your own fault if you see it now, I guess I'm not really sorry at all.

God this movie sucks.

A funny thing happened on the way to the subway...

I received a marriage proposal.

Unfortunately, my gentleman caller was clearly...not all there upstairs, evidenced by the fact that he proceeded to call me Mother.

Only in New York? Nah, I'm sure guys propose to their moms much more often in the south. Or at the Bates Motel.

In other news, work is killing me and I'm having a hard time concentrating at my desk for more than half an hour at a time because I'm so tired. I brought some deposition transcripts home but will I look at them? After a glass of wine.

As for more randomness, the fact that Growing Pains is on for an hour every night makes me really happy.

Dear Kanye West,

Ok. George Bush doesn't care about black people. You said it. We pretty much agreed with you, and admired your audacity to say it. But you know what? I don't think you care about black people, or rather, poor people (because let's face it, the black people Bush didn't/doesn't care about are all poor) either. How many Katrina survivors could you feed with this ridiculous waste of money? I know it's not your job to rescue and take care of the populace as it is for the government and the president, and I know the music company requested the decadence on your behalf, but being the big goddamn star that you are, you could just say no, thank you, let's do something else with this money. School music programs, teen pregnancy prevention (gotta stop those gold diggers), anything else. Please.

Sincerely,

Me


Breathe. I'm not sure why this bothers me so much. I know the article says Kanye's not the one who ordered the meal, but for a celebrity who created such a firestorm with what was an apparent heartfelt statement and conviction to revel in such a degree of utter waste makes me crazy. Paris, Nicole, Ashley and Mary-Kate - I couldn't care less how you spend your billions of dollars because you never actually say or do anything meaningful. I guess it's Kanye's hypocrisy that makes me want to commit murder.

Wow.

I have just discovered the band Explosions In The Sky. It is by far the most heartfelt and beautiful instrumental music I've ever come across. I may have to actually go to a store and buy the CDs because the music is just too good to have only digitally. Go to Itunes and check it out.

Simple. Pure. Magic.

He's still single, right?

Dreams that make you feel happy, safe, loved, and hopeful are rare to come by. At least for me. Usually they're just confusing, random, or somewhat disturbing.

But last night, I had a good one. A falling in love dream. And who was I falling in love with?

John Stamos.

Not Uncle Jesse John Stamos, but new hot ER John Stamos. (Yes, I still watch ER. Shut up.)

Let's just say it was sad to wake up.

I'm not a numbers person.

So you can imagine how much fun I've had for the past hour trying to figure out how my meticulously kept checkbook was $100 off from my online bank statement.

Add, subtract, add, subtract, subtract, subtract some more. Add.

I finally realized I was $100 off when I started this new checkbook, due to my inability to add 1+2, and for some damn reason hadn't noticed it until now. Fucking numbers.

I need a drink.